Taste
by The Cake Genius
Summary: "Light tasted like mint..." A collection of vingettes focused on the five senses. LxL, MxM.
1. Taste

Disclaimer: Death Note is, sadly, not mine. *sniffles pathetically* I do have an L T-shirt, though! :)

A/N: I had a lot of fun writing this. It just came to me in the middle of Social Studies class, and I spent my school day writing these... Yeah. I especially had fun with Misa tasting sour compared to L.

Taste

Light tasted like mint. He tasted fresh, clean, and pure. No doubt simply a result of brushing his teeth so much, L thought. If he searched long enough, he could find a hint of sugar, peppermint candy. It was an intoxicating flavor, the taste of Light Yagami, and L ached inside to think that a thousand others had tasted this forbidden perfection. The emerald green envy would trickle inside of him, and he tasted more and more, desperate to claim Light as his own, desperate to pull something real out of the seemingly loveless boy.

Misa tasted like lemons. Hundreds of boys- and girls- wanted her, but Light knew better than anyone that she tasted as sour and bitter as she acted stupid and clingy. Light found no satisfaction in the girl, and only kissed her when he absolutely had to. It wasn't her sticky, cloying lips he wanted.

L tasted like strawberries. He was sweet and savory, and although Light couldn't stand how many sweets the detective consumed on a daily basis, he loved to kiss the sugary lips of the raven-haired man. He had never felt such need and desire for anyone, not even Misa. Especially not Misa. There was something about L, Ryuzaki, Ryuga, whatever the hell his name was, that captured and fascinated the russet-haired heartthrob who usually blocked out such petty emotions as love-

Love...? Yes, love. Light was desperately and irreversibly in love with L Lawliet.

And it scared him out of his mind.

Mello tasted like chocolate; the chocolate that he loved so much, that he appeared to pull out of thin air. Matt had stolen Mello's secret stash of chocolate once, when they were still kids at Wammy's. Mello had punched him in the face, fracturing the orange lenses of his goggles. He apologized later as Matt held a tissue to his bloody nose with one hand and played a hand-held videogame with the other. Matt was still the only person Mello would sincerely apologize to without heavy bribery.

But they weren't kids anymore. They were daring and thirsting for adventure, cooped up in a tiny apartment alone. Matt discovered exactly how Mello tasted- lips, tongue, neck, chest, long thin legs- there was always a hint of chocolate, with an underlayer of something distinctly _Mello _underneath. He had never appreciated chocolate as much as he did then.

Matt tasted like cigarettes: like smoke and ashes and death. Mello knew because had plundered every particle of the redhead's mouth. It was all smoke, everywhere.

Mello didn't mind, though. Because that mouth was Matt's, and Matt was Mello's, a fierce bond between the two. This cigarette-tasting boy belonged to him, and they could both very well die tomorrow, so Mello breathed in the scent of smoke and leather and sweat, and tasted Matt as if he didn't already know what he would find there. He loved what he fond, and that was all that mattered.


	2. Smell

Disclaimer: Death Note is not mine. If it were, Light, Mello, Matt, and L would be laughing their heads off over Misa's dead body.

A/N: I loved writing "Taste" so much that I wrote chapters for the other four senses, too. I really do like to write vignettes, I've discovered. Do you think I do an okay job? Please let me know in a Review, because feedback would be immensely appreciated (and God knows I need it)! I got one already for the last chapter and it made me ridiculously happy. :D

2nd A/N: I had to come up with new stuff, because it would be obvious for Matt to smell like smoke, but I didn't want it to be TOO repetitive... These are a bit, erm, ORIGINAL, but I think I pulled them off...

Smell

Light smelled like wind. He smelled like high mountain air and a fresh summer breeze. It wasn't a strong smell; like everything with Light, L had to figure it out for himself. When he buried his head in Light's chest, he could just catch a whiff of it. It was a strange smell to the ever-curious investigator- he hadn't been outside in months. He had felt no need to. But he could sense it in his lover's clothes and hair, and suddenly he _wanted. _He wanted to run into the street without worrying, breathe the fresh air, feel the sun in his bones... But he couldn't, not with Kira on the loose, so he just held tighter to Light and pretended that he could escape.

Misa smelled like flowers. It was the perfume she wore too much of, Light was sure. He knew as soon as she walked into a room simply because the scent would permeate the area. When Misa hugged him (which was often), the smell would cling to him like a parasite, and he would scrub at his skin to exorcise the memory of her. L would watch with his passive black eyes in silence, as if he was making sure that the girl would make no mark on what they both knew to be his.

L smelled like rain. It was a faint scent, but branded in Light's mind forever; it was a scent that haunted him. How L smelled like this, he did not know. How could someone who refused to venture outside almost to the point of agoraphobia smell like wet pavement, fresh earth, and coppery angels' tears? Light loved this smell, but it would never stick. He could never catch a tangible wisp of the spindly detective to carry with him... could never catch him and hold on to him and know in his heart they would never be separated.

Mello smelled like leather. It would never leave him Matt knew that when Mello loved something, he would never be satisfied no matter how much he had; it was always more. Want more, need more, get more by any means. That's how it was with leather clothes. Mello had said so himself many times how much he loved the stuff, classy yet edgy, smooth yet rough.

Mello only wore leather: pants, jackets, shoes... He eventually adopted it as his signature scent.

When they had been apart and Matt felt like half of himself was suddenly missing, he had bought his own leather jacket. Not to wear. He just kept it in a box and took it out on occasion to finger and breathe in.

He didn't cry.

Matt smelled like cinnamon. He smelled like cigarettes and sweat too, but mingling with the other wonderfully spicy aroma. Back at Wammy's House, before the best friends ever knew what they would someday become, Mello would thread his fingers through Matt's burgundy hair and bury his face in the soft locks, just for the scent he could not get enough of. It made him feel dazed and heady. Until, of course, his friend would go 'quit being weird Mells, I'm playing a game,' and the blonde would scowl and snap off a bite of his chocolate bar.

Now, Matt never told Mello to stop. He just let his game drop to the floor and wrap his arms around the other boy's ribcage, smiling slightly into his neck.


	3. Touch

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note.

A/N: I can now play L's theme on the piano. This makes me very happy. :) By the way, I think that Misa has depth... it'd just very shallow depth. Light, in my mind, does not notice the difference. But I barely care, because I hate her anyway. ^^ Finally, I am currently listening to Tegan and Sara's album "Get Along," which I don't have the legal rights to, either. The songs in it relate freakishly well to Death Note. Especially "Alligator" and "Sentimental Tune." I mean, "unnerved, the nerve, you're nervous... you're nervous and I'm RIGHT!" O_e I'll probably use it for a songfic one day.

Touch

Light felt like danger, like something so restricted and forbidden. L was overwhelmed inside by the sheer power of him, the nervous feeling he would get in his sugar-ridden stomach. When he and Light were together, adrenaline surged through him until he felt dizzy and drunk. L was childish and hated to lose, so he would never admit it to Light in his tone or expression, but Kira had the detective wrapped around his little finger. L knew this, and knew that his feelings would give him a great disadvantage in the case. He knew and accepted it. He would follow Light to the depths of Hell if need be.

Misa felt like glass. Light was sure that she would break at any second. Her mood could change from ecstatic to manically depressed in a heartbeat, and Light never knew what to do around her. One incorrect wrong or action, and she would shatter into sharp, glittering smithereens. She was also just so vulnerable and easy to read, it was boring. Light could see right through her; it was as simple as schoolwork for him, and his head hurt from her shallow and frustrating simplicity. She didn't understand him or their situation. She didn't _get_ it, but Light didn't want to break her. He just wanted to set her aside to sit with other trinkets on a dusty museum shelf, and maybe then he would finally be able to breathe.

L felt like a bird. A small and fragile bird, with his bony body and frail physique. Light would hold him close and run his fingers through the feathery ebony hair, attempting to soothe him, keep him safe from Kira. Light would always do his best to be gentle with this man he loved, even through the bite of their chains and the desperation almost tangible on their lips, but firm enough to let him know that he was still in charge, the owner, the beholder. But L would get a blaze of determination in his deep, dark pits of eyes, and Light knew that he really had no option but to surrender.

Mello felt like fire. He never played nice, he never played fair, flames burning all around him. He always made it painfully clear that _he,_ Mello, Mihael Keehl, was the best, smartest, craziest... except when he was alone with Matt. He would let the other boy run his hands over him, his long legs, the burn on his face. He was all fire, everywhere, all sharp angles and interesting textures to Matt, and his sparks caught and set him ablaze.

And he could control this fire, this raging storm of a boy, he could hold Mello in his hands and bite the chapped lips, gaze into the blazing blue eyes, marking him. _Mine._

Matt felt like silk. Mello would pull his hair and touch his face, smooth and sexy as the designer fabric, wildfire fingertips running everywhere. Matt's fingers were skilled from playing games and hacking all day, silken fingers tracing patterns on Mello's body, silken lips tracing patterns on his face. They were hurried in their movements, needing each other for something to hold onto in this crazy world of serial killers and death gods, fire and silk dancing together, inhibitions and guilt forced to fly out the window. In a tiny, run-down apartment, they spread their torn wings and flew into the blood-colored sky together.


	4. Hear

Disclaimer: Not mine.

A/N: I really should update this more often... I'm sorry. TT I plan to upload the fifth and final installment on November fifth, for hopefully obvious reasons. Also, Light now has regained his memories (damn!).

Hear

Light sounded like ice. Through the mask of love and concern, L could hear the lies in his voice. He was 97 percent sure that he was the only one who knew Light was lying. There are things, as L had only just discovered, that you cannot simply gather evidence for, calculate a percentage and collect solid proof for. Sometimes, there are just gut feelings. L had always refused to rely on such things, but once Light Yagami had entered his life, his world of formulas and sanity had turned upside-down. And now he knew for sure that the one he loved, his only friend, the only person that could make him truly feel, was Kira. And that L would die by his hands. L would die knowing that he had been right all along. L would die, and he would lose. And for once, he was going to let himself be second best, let himself finally get some sleep.

Misa sounded like a kitten: innocent, playful, and annoyingly high-pitched. Not to mention insistent. She acted cute, so you decided to tolerate her, and then she makes a big mess all over the place. Not that she knew what she was doing; she was just trying to have some fun. She would bite and nip and scratch until Light was a bloody mess on the floor, with nowhere and no one to turn to.

L sounded like he was drowning. He was standing out there in the rain, his raven hair dripping, his white shirt transparent, and Light knew. Light knew what he had to do, knew that L knew, too. And even though he had to eliminate L to create a better world, there was something inside him that ached as he watched the skinny, hunched figure in the rain whose obsidian eyes were full of sadness and regret when they met his own. Light felt, once again, like he was spinning out of control, in a never-ending maze with no map.

Mello sounded like a madman. As soon as he would open his mouth, Matt felt like the boy was a bomb about to go off. Mello had truly crazy ideas, elaborate schemes that usually involved explosives guns, dramatic confrontations, and probably a good deal of chocolate. But aside from being crazy and destructive, these plans were also brilliantly and wonderfully exciting, and Matt would always go along with them. After all, Mello was the only one who gave his life anything interesting at all. Without Mello, Matt sometimes wondered, what would be the point in living at all?

Matt sounded like sandpaper. He had started smoking when he was... what, eleven? ...It seemed like so long ago to Mello. It was finally starting to catch up to the stubborn redhead, attacking his lungs and vocal chords, ravenous. When Matt would wake up after a late night of gaming and booze, his voice would sound like gravel, it was so rough. Mello, just as hung-over, would think it was unbelievably sexy every time, and let his head pound as he burrowed into Matt to press his ear to the boy's heart, just to confirm that the heart within was still beating.


	5. See

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note, least of all L.

A/N: It's November fifth, you guys... wow. Depressing. I wanted to post this today to honor L's death, which is why I didn't upload sooner. This is the final chapter. I hope the grammar on Mello's isn't too confusing. I decided to do away with quotation marks in a failed attempt to be artistic. :P And the weird thing is, where I am right now, it's sunny. And not just a little sunny; the sky looks NEON. It's obnoxiously cheerful.

See

Light looked like blood as he grinned evilly down at L, his brown eyes tinted with red_. So_, L thought, _I've been right all along... but... I..._ He closed his eyes and let himself drift away...

Misa looked like she had no brain. Light was sure she did, somewhere in there, but it was too easy to twist and manipulate, the power of Kira easily overtaking her. He had used Misa, used Rem, and used L. Used them and broken them. What had started out as a purification had turned into a web of lies and murder. There was no turning back.

L looked like he should still be alive. His raven hair was still falling, disorderly, over his face. His posture was still awful. Specks of sugar were still visible on his liips. But... he wasn't breathing in the way that made his hair flutter and rustle, his bare toes were still, his thumb was detached from his mouth, and his endless eyes were no longer examining, calculating... He was no longer L. To Light, he was so full of life, yet so full of death.

That was the moment, that was the time, that Light's bending mind had finally snapped, a pencil broken by a schoolchild.

Mello looked like a little angel. That's what all the grown-ups used to say as soon as they saw the small, blonde boy with sparkling blue eyes, feathery hair, a crystal complexion, and a permanent scowl. They wouldn't believe his angry words, calling him feisty and cute, until he would unleash a wild punch and run away. Each detention he recieved only made him angrier.

The only thing that could ever clam him down was Matt. I AM NOT A LITTLE ANGEL! Mello would storm in, screaming, and Matt would sigh.

Not again.

Yes again, you idiot! They're all idiots!

C'mere. He would, and warm arms would wrap themselves around him.

I'm _not._

I know you're not.

I'm not Near.

No, you're not. And I like you that way.

A kiss on the top of his head.

You _are _better than him, Mells. Always to me.

But, secretly, Matt thought that Mello was a much better person than he gave himself credit for. Matt could see it in his eyes, in the way he collapsed after days without sleep, in the silent tears he caught when Mello thought he wasn't looking.

Matt looked like he was calm. Relaxed, chill, lazy even. Behind his tinted goggles, his expression was almost passive. He would do whatever it was he was doing with ease and confidence. Only Mello knew that all his was a disguise. Matt knew Mello was hunting Kira, not to mention in the Mafia. He would say it was fine, he knew Mello would come out okay. He's tough.

But every day when Mello got back to their apartment, Matt would jump up from the couch and throw his arms aound his lover. Looks like you're still alive, he would tease with an easy grin, but they both knew how afraid, how stretched to his breaking point, how rubbed raw he had been. Every single day, the passion and immense relief in his kiss would speak more than words ever could. _Iloveyou-ImissyouIneedyouPleasestayfo reverDon'teverleavemeagainDon'tletmegoeverPromise-IloveyouIneedyouIloveyouIlov eyou..._

Mello could feel it in his mind, in his heart which he denied he had. With each kiss and touch, he made a silent vow he knew he couldn't hold: _I promise I will keep you safe._


End file.
